


Old Scars / Future Hearts

by oscarwilderobbieross



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Bucky Barnes Has PTSD, Domestic Avengers, Dungeons & Dragons References, Fluff and Angst, Found Family, Homeless Peter Parker, M/M, Trans Peter Parker
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-03-07
Updated: 2021-03-13
Packaged: 2021-03-13 13:02:11
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,215
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29901483
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/oscarwilderobbieross/pseuds/oscarwilderobbieross
Summary: James is a vet with PTSD, the little sleep he gets is routinely interrupted by cheering from the apartment next to his.Or: How James Barnes stopped being afraid of caring for other people and learned to love his hot neighbor.
Relationships: Bruce Banner/Tony Stark, Clint Barton/Natasha Romanov, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Comments: 1
Kudos: 34





	1. Control

**Author's Note:**

> This fic is a Valentine's day gift for my partner! They are very into Stucky, Bucky Barnes being a dad and found family.

_My mind’s like a deadly disease…_

James Barnes woke with a start as cheering from the apartment next door exploded through his living room wall. He shot a bleary-eyed glare towards the clock on his wall: 8 pm. He'd dozed off after forcing his way through dinner and missed the warning signs of the usual Friday night gathering at his neighbors place. They’d occurred every week since he moved here. He'd made the adult decision to live alone. he had a good relationship with his parents, so they didn't want him gone, but everything had changed once he got discharged. As a Barnes, every man in the family had been expected to join the army, but he’d been the first one to come back with damage that wasn’t easily ignored at Thanksgiving. Uncle Gregory who’s hands shook too hard to hold a pie plate and drank too much? Manageable. A 26 year old who showed up with three limbs instead of four? That was a little harder to gloss over with small talk. The young man flinching away from the flash during the family picture stuck out like a sore thumb. It wouldn’t do, he wouldn’t embarrass his parents like that. He was doing just fine here.

Another wave of sound disrupted his thoughts, so he decided to give up on drifting back to sleep and tugged on his boots instead. The sky was dark, James looked up towards the streetlights and inhaled a lungful of (relatively) fresh air. He pulled on his hood and pushed his hand down in the pocket of his jacket, before walking towards the little park that bordered his building. He figured the usual foot traffic died down at this time of night and the park was mostly empty, apart from a figure sitting on the best bench in the park. It was more of a shape than a person, since they were all bundled up and Bucky couldn’t make out any specific features. The figure was peering at the ducks floating on the little pond with an expression of absolute focus, and as James got closer, he realized the person was holding a disposable camera that had seen better days. He was fiddling with it, cursing under his breath. “You have to turn the little wheel, or it won’t take the picture.” He’d said it softly, practically whispering, to make sure he didn’t startle the figure. They still jumped and James could see how young they were as they turned to look at him. It was a boy, a kid, looking a little ridiculous in at least two jackets and a faded black scarf. “Huh?”

He stared at him with big, confused eyes, so James stepped forward and pointed out the little wheel with his index finger. “Here. You turn it with your thumb, when it stops.. you can take the picture.” The kid looked down at the camera with a frown, before holding it out towards James. “Can you show me? I mean, I haven’t used one of these things before.” James blinked at him for a moment before gesturing towards his empty sleeve with an awkward expression on his face. “I’d love to do that, kid. It’s a little fiddly for me.” He could basically see the gears turn in the kid’s head before he got a flustered expression on his face and he started feverishly apologizing. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry, sir! That’s so stupid of me!” James shook his head, a little overwhelmed by all of this apologetic enthusiasm. “Hey kid, you’re alright. It’s not like you knew-“ “Peter.” Now it was James’ turn to blink at the boy, confused. “Uh, that’s my name.” The boy clarified, still a little embarrassed. He moves a grimy backpack out of the way, clearing space on the bench and James takes the silent invitation to sit down next to him. “I’m James.” He followed Peter’s gaze towards the pond again, he’d managed to figure out the mechanism and took a picture of the ducks with a satisfied expression on his face. The little camera made a hollow click, and James braced himself for the inevitable flash, but it didn’t come. He visibly relaxed, and as he did so, he felt Peter’s gaze on him. “So, what brings you out here? Don’t kids spend their Friday nights at parties or something?” James asked the kid, he remembered his own high school weekends fondly.

Peter shrugged, fiddling with the camera again. He was uncomfortable, his body language basically screamed it at James. “Oh, I don’t know.. I heard this park was nice.” He was scanning James, looking for something. James didn’t exactly know what. “I guess,” James agreed, although he couldn’t exactly find a reason for why this park would be nicer than any other park in New York, nor why someone would choose to take pictures without flash at this time of night. “You know, I’m not a cop.” He told Peter, who frowned and raised a brow. “Sounds like something a cop would say.” James let out a short laugh, looking at Peter. “You think cops hire vets with scrambled brains and a missing arm?” He wondered, and the boy seemed to consider that for a moment before shaking his head. “I guess not.” James’ mouth corners curled up at that answer, before his expression got serious again. “You hungry, kid? My mom always brings over too much food when she comes over. I can’t eat all that before it goes bad.” Peter gives him another skeptical look. “I’m good, I ate.. before I left.” His stomach betrayed him, growling loudly. He chose to not respond, simply shrugging his shoulders. “I can’t leave this bench, someone else might take it.” James rose, looking down at the boy. “Alright, hang on. I’ll bring you something, alright?” Peter looked at him for a moment, before nodding. “Sure.” There was still doubt in his voice, like he didn’t buy the random act of kindness. Or he hadn’t convinced himself of the fact that James wasn’t a cop.

James left Peter with another promise of a warm meal, before heading out of the park and back inside of his building. He pulled a Tupperware container of mac & cheese from the fridge, which didn’t have much in it besides more Tupperware and a couple cans of coke. He took off the lid and warmed it up in the microwave for a couple of minutes, fetching a fork and heading out the door again. Only to bump up against the impressive form of his neighbor. It must have been later than he thought, the sounds from next door had seized and the blond was holding a garbage bag, clearly on his way to take out the trash. “Oh, pardon me.” James blinked at the man, who had decided to apologize for HIS error and who was currently looking between his face and the steaming container of food in his hand. “Late night snack?” He asked cheerfully. James opened his mouth to respond, before closing it again and shaking his head. He was feverishly trying to think. The last thing he wanted was his neighbor finding out about Peter and calling the cops on the kid. “Uh, this is for the.. ducks.” He said weakly, a bit surprised when the blond man started laughing at him. “I see, I didn’t know ducks ate pasta. I’m Steve.” He held out his hand, which complicated things for James, since he was already balancing the container and the fork. He couldn’t exactly go through the whole ‘apologetic stranger finds out he only has one arm routine’ again. So he smiled instead. “I’m James. See you around, man.”

He turned, to hurriedly escape the awkward situation of rudely refusing to shake the hand of a man who was so handsome and nice that it physically hurt, heading out of the building again.


	2. To Be So Lonely

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After group therapy, James is forced to bring home a lot more than his emotional baggage.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter two is up already! This one got away from me a little bit, but I've got a solid idea about where this fic is going, so keep an eye out!

_It’s hard for me to go home_

_Be so lonely_

Bucky had found it incredibly difficult to leave Peter on that bench that night. He’d offered a spot on his couch, as the boy was thankfully shoveling mac & cheese into his mouth, but the boy had simply shook his head. “No, thank you, Sir-” “James.” “...James.” He sighed, accepting the empty tupperware box and the fork once Peter had finished. “I don’t want to get you in trouble, if a neighbor sees some kind of gross teenager coming out of your apartment, they’ll call the cops.” To be honest, James wasn’t convinced that Peter believed he wasn’t a cop. So he let it be. He went back home, he laid himself down on his couch and he didn’t sleep. He was still staring at the ceiling as the alarm clock beeped in his bedroom. Group therapy time. He groaned, dragging himself towards the kitchen to brew some coffee and brush his teeth. In the back of his head, he could hear his mother lecture him about oral hygiene. As he brushed, he pulled his phone out of his pocket, checking his messages. Winnifred had dutifully reminded him of the fact that he had group therapy, and he shot her a short message back that he had in fact remembered to wake up. 

Coffee on an empty stomach didn’t exactly agree with him, but he didn’t have breakfast food at home, so he’d swing by the bodega after group. Now, he mostly worried himself with surviving the subway while Billy Joel sang about the old man’s car in his headphones. It stopped his panic response to yelling, honking cars or people loudly talking on their phones. New York subways in Fall were his own personal hell, people with thick jackets taking up space and heating the cramped cars around rush hour. He always felt trapped, claustrophobic, and he’d left the train one or two stops too early multiple times. On a particularly bad day, he’d nearly had a panic attack in the middle of the staircase as he went down to the platform, sprinting back up to the street instead and choosing to walk the whole way home. This morning, he made it to the VA building without incident, feeling the familiar sensation of wanting to crawl out of his skin. He ducked into the restrooms, splashing his face with cool tap water and taking a moment to take a few deep breaths, before walking to the room his group gathered in. It was a sober affair, a few motivational posters and chairs arranged in a circle. He walked over to the table with coffee, tea, sandwiches and some donuts and helped himself to a sandwich with sad-looking plastic cheese on it, just to make sure he had something to do with his hands. 

“Barnes, you look like you haven’t slept.” James looked behind him, offering Sam Wilson a little shrug. “Probably because I haven’t slept.” He suggested flatly, a little annoyed with the immediate concerned frown that appeared on Sam’s face. “Nightmares?” The man offered, and James was glad he could shake his head and mean it this time. “Nah, I.. was worrying.” Sam blinked at that, this answer clearly took him by surprise. “Worrying? About what, man?” James thought for a moment, unsure about whether he should tell his therapist about Peter. The man could have some connections to law enforcement, or he could try and teach him some lesson about caring for himself before he started taking care of others. “Uh, there’s this kid. He.. lives in my building.” He lied smoothly, feeling only a little guilty. “He got locked out yesterday, hadn’t eaten yet, so I brought him some of my mom’s food.” Sam smiled a little at that, he was aware of Winnifred’s famous tupperwares. She’d forced James to bring some of her food to the VA for Sam before. “I told him he could wait for his mom at my place, if he wanted, but he said no. So I was worried about.. Whether his mom got home on time.” Sam nodded slowly, James could see him thinking, considering whether this instance of worrying about someone else meant something positive or negative for James’ mental state. “Was the kid there when you left this morning?” He asked and James shrugged again. He had no idea, he hadn’t walked through the park since his walk to the subway went the other way. Now, he felt stupid. It wouldn’t have cost him much time to walk to the bench and check on Peter this morning. “I.. don’t think he was.” He said vaguely, his eyes flickering over to the others that made up their group. Mostly everyone was here already. “I’ll go and sit down.” He offered, giving himself an escape from the conversation. 

After group, James made sure to leave the VA building before Sam could ask him any more questions about the kid, feeling nervous and a little on edge as he headed home again. Luckily, because of the time, the subway wasn’t packed with people anymore and he even dared to sit down while the train swayed gently. The rhythm and the relative quiet of the subway cart was enough to tempt him into nodding off a couple of times, the lack of sleep catching up with him. Once he got to his stop and back up to street-level, he noticed his steps were a lot more hurried than usual, and he found himself anxiously wondering if Peter was still there, if he was alright. As he entered the park, he’d practically upgraded to a steady jog, his heart rate climbing as he came closer and closer to the bench. He froze as he realized Peter was still there. He wasn’t alone, though. A surge of anger made his feet move again as he stomped towards the bench. He realized how he must look as both Peter and the stranger looked up at him. Dark circles under bloodshot eyes, his unshaven face pale and his long hair greasy from missing a shower or two. He’d nearly said the words “Is this man bothering you?” before figuring that was a little ridiculous. Peter rescued him from his own brain. “Oh, James! This is Clint,” The boy told him brightly, before gesturing towards the golden retriever James had completely overlooked. “and this is Lucky!” James blinked down at the dog, who was wearing a guidance dog vest that clearly indicated that they weren’t to be pet while on the job. “Oh, that’s cool.” He said a little dumbly, before looking at Clint. “Hey, man.” He offered, all of the fight drained out of him. The other man just smiled at him, petting Lucky’s head. “Is this your dad or something, kid?” He asked Peter, who waved his hands in a dismissive gesture. “He brought me food yesterday.” The boy turned to James, a bright grin on his face. He looked a little flustered, James wondered if he’d embarrassed him with the sudden protectiveness. 

“One of my friends lives in the building. I left one of my hearing aides in his apartment last night, so I’m swinging by to pick it up, the kid wanted to pet Lucky. Usually, that’s a no go, but I have time.” Peter nodded along with Clint, all enthusiasm. “You know, you’re not supposed to bother service dogs when they’re working, kid.” James offered, not wanting to sound like he was lecturing him. “Well, I know that now!” Peter told him, rolling his eyes like James had told him the most obvious thing in the world. He looked at Clint as the man rose, Lucky standing up to follow her owner. “Nice talking to you, kid. I’ll see you around, remember our talk.” Peter nodded seriously, but Clint had an easy smile on his face, continuing his way out of the park. Peter scooched over on the bench, creating space for James to sit down, which he did. “Did you.. Sleep well?” He asked the kid, a little awkward. “Oh yeah. Like I said, best bench in this park.” James studied his face for a moment, he was still flustered, his cheeks red and his eyes unfocused. “Hey, are you alright, Peter?” He asked him, eyes going wide as Peter slumped forward. He caught him automatically, feeling how warm the kid was. He was burning up. 

James made a few quick decisions at that point.

He made sure Peter opened his eyes again, before helping him stand up and guiding him towards his building. “You have a fever, you can’t stay out here.” He told Peter gruffly, the boy’s backpack slung over his good shoulder. “Are you sure?” The kid’s voice was so soft, James wondered how old he actually was. Much too young to have no one to care for him, that was for sure. “Yeah, I told you. The spot on my couch hasn’t been taken yet.” He smiled at Peter, the boy’s smile was small and a little watery, but James was just happy that he could still smile. As they got off the elevator, he swore under his breath. The hot neighbor was standing in front of his door, Steve. He was talking to Clint, James wondered how much his list of people to avoid would grow over time. He’d lived here for months without anyone on it and now it had gone up to two in as many days! Both men looked at Peter before they looked at James, Steve frowned at him. “Is he alright?” James just replied with a noncommittal grunt, realizing he didn’t really know how to answer that question. He managed to get his door open with some fiddling and he guided Peter inside, exhaling a breath he’d been holding once he got Peter down on the couch. The boy was taking quick, shallow breaths and that worried James. “Do you have asthma? Are you overheating? I have a thermometer somewhere, we should really take your temperature. Maybe take your jacket off, you have a fever. God, how many layers are you actually wearing?” He was panicking a little, completely unsure of what to do. “I’m fine, I’m not that hot.” Peter protested and Bucky raised a brow at him, since he was practically cosplaying a melting snowman. “I’m serious, you could overheat and then there’s a lot more legal shit we’d be in, the hospital asks questions.” Peter still had an unsure look on his face and instead of pushing Peter past some barrier James knew nothing about, he decided to sit down next to him and ask “Why don’t you want to take your hoodie off, kid?” 

Peter seemed to be bracing himself, before answering in a soft, timid voice. “I’m wearing a binder.” 

James frowned a little, wondering why that would prevent anyone from taking off a piece of clothing, before he recalled the words of his little sister Becca. She’d started the GSA at his old and her current high school. While she wasn’t trans herself, she’d taken it upon herself to consume as much knowledge about the different sexualities and gender identities under the rainbow umbrella she could find in about a week’s time. This resulted in her crafting intricate powerpoints to convince the school that they should allow her to start the GSA, which she tested on their parents and James first. He could hear her high voice in his head now: “...So, a binder is a safe way to create a masculine chest, instead of ace bandages or duct tape. They can cause a lot of damage and cause serious trouble with breathing, or even crack a rib..” He blinked at Peter for a moment, before nodding. “Right. Well, you can’t sleep in it. Or, you shouldn’t. You want to go take it off in the bathroom? I’ll grab some bedding stuff for the couch.” He decided, a little worried about letting someone who was that feverish in a room without supervision, but he also didn’t want Peter to feel uncomfortable. Peter just stared at him, so he repeated himself, a little slower this time. “.uh, yeah. I mean.. I heard you. I just- You’re.. Good?” He asked, making James frown. “I’m not feverish.” He assured Peter, which made the kid smile for some reason, before he carefully got up from the couch and shuffled into the bathroom while James pointed out where to go. 

About ten minutes later, Peter was asleep on his couch, a little too deep under the blankets James provided, for his liking. But he’d complained of being cold, even if he was still burning, so James had compromised and was currently in the process of folding a damp kitchen towel and placing it on the boy’s forehead. He shivered, but otherwise remained in the deep sleep he was used to. James had even offered to make the bed for him, seeing how he was in quite the state, but Peter insisted he couldn’t impose. 

Which meant that James would be forced to sleep there. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking of making this fic eight chapters. Idk I have to schedule it out a bit. Chapter three will be up tomorrow or the day after!


	3. Burning Pile

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James takes care of Peter while his old ghosts catch up with him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3! 
> 
> Warning: this chapter deals with ptsd, nightmares and blood. Bucky's sleep paralysis experience was also inspired by Will Graham's nightmares from Hannibal.

_Throw my troubles at the pearly gates_

James sat at the edge of the bed for a long time, feeling himself nod off multiple times. His mind was a mess of thoughts, all clustering to make sure James paid attention to them. He thought back to himself at Peter’s age, when people still called him Bucky and the things keeping him up at night were math class and football matches against their rival school. He was still such a kid at 15, he couldn’t imagine keeping himself alive. He wondered how Peter ended up on the street and how he still managed to keep that bright smile on his face. When he shot awake again, he sighed and gave up fighting his brain. He could go into the kitchen, make coffee or warm up some more food, but Peter had only just fallen back asleep, only weakly opposing James as he fed him. His mother made the best chicken noodle soup and the fact that Peter would eat seemed positive to James, he’d taken the little trash can from the bathroom, put a new bag in it and put it down next to the couch. He couldn’t remember if nausea was a standard symptom of the flu (did Peter even have the flu?) but he wouldn’t take any risks. So now, he was here. Falling asleep in his bedroom. Exactly the two things he didn’t want to be doing. But at the same time, he couldn’t exactly ignore his body’s need for sleep. If he’d been alone in the apartment, he might have. He might have spent another night awake, simply to escape the nightmares that were waiting for him. But Peter was here, he had a fever and James had to take care of him. Make sure he got better. He couldn’t do that if his brain was muddy and sleep-deprived. So he laid himself down, feeling like he was sinking down into the bed, his mattress like a cloud he could fall right through. He closed his eyes with resignation, knowing exactly what was waiting for him once sleep embraced him. 

_There was so much blood._

_He could feel himself, his back pressed into the mattress, his head on the pillow. He was frozen, forced to stare at the ceiling as his heart raced and his jaw clenched. He was sweating, but he wasn’t focusing on that, he knew the blood was rising, filling the room and spilling over onto the mattress, coating his legs. The explosion had taken all of them: Dugan, Morita, Falsworth, Jones, Denier. He should have noticed, he should have checked the vehicle more thoroughly. His mistake, his mistake. HIS FAULT. The blast from the IED was enough to make the car go up in flames. The others had been standing too close, waiting for him to bring over the gear to load in. They were all gone, he was just missing an arm. He hadn’t checked the vehicle properly, he missed it. He missed it. He missed it. He killed them, and their blood was drenching the bed, rising so quickly that it flowed over him, into his nose, taking his breath. He was still frozen, stuck to the bed, forced to let the guilt drown him. His friends were gone and it was his fault-_

**“James!”**

His eyes shot open, and the mattress released his body. Sitting upright, his back straight as an arrow, he stared at the door to his bedroom with wide eyes. He was soaked in sweat and Peter was leaning against the doorframe, worry on his face. “Kid.” He found his voice again, swinging his legs over the bed and planting his feet on the floor. “I woke you up, I’m sorry.” He told him, and Peter carefully approached. “You.. were yelling. I wanted to check.. Uh, I think you woke the neighbor too.” The boy looked apologetic, James remembered how thin the walls were and stood up with a sigh of resignation. “You’re okay, kid. Thanks. Go back to sleep, you’re sick.” He told him, ignoring the way Peter rolled his eyes as he walked past him. “Aye aye, Captain.” James pushed his hair out of his face, glaring at the front door as he heard the soft knock. A neighbor that complained about noise was exactly what he didn’t need right now, especially if that neighbor was Steve. He didn’t look angry though. As James opened the door, the man stood there in all of his glory. He was wearing a navy hoodie to hide most of his bare chest and a pair of grey sweatpants. His eyebrows were knitted together in a worried expression and James thought he saw some pity in his terribly blue eyes. “Hey.. man.” He started the conversation, not wanting to just stand there and listen if Steve decided this was a good time to start yelling. “The kid said I woke you up, that’s my bad.” He offered, surprised as Steve shrugged. “I wasn’t asleep, my schedule is pretty messed up.” He smiled an easy smile and James was pretty sure he could literally feel his heart skip a beat. “I wanted to check up on you, make sure everything was.. Alright.“ the man told him and James automatically nodded. “Oh yeah. Just.. nightmares.” He muttered softly, looking back to where Peter was sitting on the couch, studying the different squares of the crocheted blanket his mother had made for him once he announced he’d be moving out. 

“You served?” 

Steve’s question pulled his attention away from Peter, making him look back at the man. “Huh?” The smile seemed like Steve’s best feature, since he offered it to James again. “Are you military? I don’t mean to assume, but.. I recognize the type.” James wasn’t sure he should be insulted by that or not, frowning at Steve, who held up his hands. “I don’t mean it as a bad thing, I was a Captain myself, Air Force. My entire dnd group is mostly vets.” Steve must have read James’ blank expression correctly, because he let out a soft laugh. “Dungeons & Dragons? It’s a table top roleplaying game, a bit like a ‘choose your own adventure book?’ I’m the dungeon master, like the storyteller, and the others play characters in the world I create.” Steve explained gently and a lot of things suddenly clicked for James. “Oh! The cheering every Friday!” Steve actually blushed at that, a pretty thing that started on his cheeks and was still visible on the traces of bare skin not hidden by the hoodie. “Yeah.. that’s- We really get into it.” A silence hung between them for a moment, before James spoke up. “I was a sergeant. I got discharged, you can’t exactly shoot a rifle with one arm. The PTSD ended up being an afterthought for them.” He couldn’t deal with the hint of pity in Steve’s eyes, the way they kept flicking over to his missing arm. “I’m sorry to have disturbed your night, Steve. I’ll make sure it doesn’t happen again.” James told him, stepping back to signal the end of their conversation and the closing of his door. It didn’t make a lot of sense, he couldn’t exactly stop the nightmares or keep them at bay for someone else’s comfort. “Oh right. I won’t keep you up. If you need anything, I’ll be right next door.” He waved at Peter, who waved back, leaning back against the couch with the blanket up to his chin. 

James felt a little calmer as he closed the door, looking down at himself as he shivered. He should really take a shower, he was starting to really smell. Looking back at Peter, he studied the boy’s face. “How are you feeling?” He asked, catching Peter’s attention from where was starting to doze off again. “I’m going to take a shower, we should take your temperature first.” He decided, fetching the thermometer from the side table. Peter stilled, a focused expression on his face as he waited for the small device to beep. James studied the little screen, the boy’s temperature hadn’t gone down yet, but it hadn’t gotten worse either. “Are you feeling nauseous at all?” he asked Peter, who shook his head. “Should I?” James shrugged, he honestly didn’t know. “I don’t think so. You didn’t hit your head or anything, did you?” If Peter had been concussed, letting him sleep without waking him up wouldn’t have been great either, but Peter shook his head. “I’m just.. Warm.” James put the thermometer back on the side table, moving to the kitchen to fill a glass of cold water for Peter. “Here.” he handed the glass to the boy and sat down next to him. “You want to go back to sleep once you’ve finished that?” He watched Peter chug the water, accepting the empty glass. “Not really. I’m not that tired.” James could understand that, he’d basically slept from the afternoon until 7 pm, and from 7 pm until now. He glanced at the clock, 3 am. “You want to tell me a bit about yourself? What’s a kid like you doing on the street?” He asked, looking back at Peter. The kid shrugged, looking down at his hands. “I didn’t have anyone else to go to.” He said softly. “My parents died in a plane crash, I was living with my aunt and uncle. My uncle got shot, a robbery gone wrong. My aunt got sick, we couldn’t pay the hospital bills, so when she passed on they took the house as a way to pay for those bills and I went into the system.” his voice was soft as he spoke about this, James would have hugged him, but that felt like a boundary he shouldn’t cross. “You were in foster care?” He asked instead and Peter nodded. “I was. However, they didn’t exactly embrace the fact that I was a boy. So I left. I’m worried they’d force me to go back there, so I don’t go to shelters.” 

James nodded slowly, processing the information. “You don’t have any other family that knows about your situation?” Peter shook his head. “No, I had friends at Midtown, but I moved schools when the foster family took me in.” he explained and James blinked at him. “You went to Midtown? Midtown Science? Isn’t that the school for like.. Brainiacs?” Peter snorted, looking at James. “Brainiacs? Does anyone still say that?” He grinned at James, who gave him a little nudge. “Whatever, I’m an old man. Do you miss school? Geeking out over formulas or whatever?” He wondered. Peter was silent for a long time, before nodding. “Well, yeah. It’s kind of useless though, it’s not like I can go back.” He sighed, laying back against the couch. “Do you get nightmares often?” He asked suddenly, catching James off guard. “No.. I don’t sleep much.” He admitted, turning on the tv to ignore Peter’s state of disbelief. He flicked through the channels on the small screen, stopping as he landed on a rerun of _The Nanny._ Peter didn’t ask him about his nightmares again, watching tv with him until he dozed off again after a couple of hours, but James could feel the boy’s gaze flick over to him as they sat, while he kept his own eyes stubbornly trained on the screen and his mind raced with hundreds of other questions. 

Now that he knew the boy would be safe, how the hell was he actually going to keep it that way? 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you think! Chapter 4 will be up soon, probably during the weekend?


	4. Someone New

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> James nurses Peter back to health and it seems they're going to be able to live quietly, until dnd night throws a wrench in it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Storm King's Thunder is an actual dnd 5e campaign I'm playing through with my group rn.
> 
> I'm going to have a lot of fun trying to decide on player characters for Steve's group.

_ Would things be easier if there was a right way? _

_ Honey there is no right way _

James dragged the two of them through the week. He only left the apartment to visit the pharmacy and stop by the bodega. For the first since he’d arrived here, his fridge was filled with food he’d bought himself. He busied himself with googling different ways to care for someone with a fever, annoyed Peter by continuing to ask if he was fine and shared clothes with him. Since the boy wasn’t as tall or broad as James, he practically swam in them, but he also refused James’ offer to get him some new clothes once he felt better. Peter was improving, but he was also getting more antsy as the end of the week approached. When Friday rolled around again and Peter was looking like himself again, with the exception of a persistent cough, James sat him down. “What’s going on, kid?” Peter hesitated, James could practically see his process of finding the right words. “It’s.. I’m just wondering if you’ll kick me out again, once I’m better?” His expression was unsure, fear in his eyes, his jaw tight. Like he was bracing for impact. It made James’ heart hurt. “Kid..” He started, Peter’s face falling. “I wasn’t planning on it.” He told him honestly. “I mean, this place is a little cramped, so we should figure some shit out, I get VA Disability Pay, my folks are still.. Worrying about me. So, it’s not like you’d bankrupt me.” He shrugged, looking over his shoulder to the small room next to the bedroom, which he’d been using as a storage room of sorts. His mother liked showing up and leaving random stuff in his living room, like lamps, dining room chairs or angel statues. He felt bad about putting them out with the trash, so he’d been leaving it in that room, which was starting to fill up. 

“I don’t know shit about childcare though, so if there’s toys or whatever you play with, you’re gonna have to write that-” James was interrupted by a crushing hug, which he returned by patting Peter on the back clumsily. He was a little surprised to feel wetness on his shoulder though, followed by sobs. “So, you’re not a cop?” He rolled his eyes, exhaling through his nose and pulling back so he could look at Peter. “No. Fuck cops. I’m just.. A dude. I know what it’s like when the people in charge don’t give a shit about you. Just, tell me if something’s bothering you. I’ll get you a key made, so you can come and go as you like. If anything makes you uncomfortable, you tell me.” He told Peter, who nodded with a serious expression. “Just... try and keep a low profile, I don’t know the legal fuckery we could fall into if someone sees you and calls the cops. I’ll figure that out. We’ll be roommates.” Peter nodded again, before grinning at James. “I could even get a job, help out with rent. Baskin Robbins is hiring.” James imagined Peter in the bright pink polo and the blue hat, which made him smile. “Sure, if that’s what you want to do. You can make your own money and save up for… a switch or whatever.” Peter wiped at his eyes, before laughing at James. “Is that what you think teens care about?” He asked, which made James shrug. “I don’t know. It’s either that or Tiktok.” this made Peter laugh even harder, he even fell back against the couch with the force of it. “Oh my god, you really are an old man!” James frowned, but there was no malice behind it. “Hey, I don’t know. I spent a long ass time in the military. You can’t really keep up when you’re shooting at people for oil.” Peter looked at him, serious again. “Do you regret it, going into the military, I mean?” James thought about that for a moment, wondering if he actually did. “It was.. Like an obligation, almost. Or, not an obligation, a tradition. Every man in my family has served, so I would serve.” He told the boy. “I knew exactly what path I would go down, before I was even old enough to sign up.” He admitted, looking down at his hand. “I don’t think my parents ever imagined I’d come home like this.” Peter was quiet after that and James stood up, heading into the kitchen to start dinner until the boy came into the kitchen to help him. 

They were sitting on the couch, Peter happily shoveling chicken and vegetables into his mouth while James tried to be more civil about it. He hadn’t texted his mother in a couple of days, so he quickly messages her that he’d actually cooked for himself. He didn’t fault her for worrying about him as much as she did, but she usually invited herself when there had been radio silence for a while. Since he didn’t know how she’d respond to Peter, he would prefer to avoid that scenario at all costs. He nearly dropped his phone as cheering came through the wall again, putting his plate on the side table as Peter raised a brow at him. “What’s that?” “Dungeons and Dragons. Steve told me he’d keep it down.” He stood up, annoyed. “They’re playing dnd next door?” Peter asked, excitement clear in his voice. “God, of course you know what that is. Hang on, I’ll ask them to chill out.” James left the apartment, knocking on Steve’s front door, waiting for him to open up. He stepped back as the door opened, eyes widening as the person who opened the door wasn’t Steve, but Sam. “Barnes? What are you doing here?” James blinked at Sam a little dumbly, before frowning. “I live here, what about you?” Sam looked back into the apartment, smiling a little. “One of my friends lives here. We… uh, play dnd on Fridays.” 

“Dude, what’s your class?” 

James’ head whipped around to look at Peter, who’d apparently decided to follow him. “Kid, this is not the time for brainiac stuff, okay?” He turned back to Sam, who was looking between the two of them. “I wanted to talk to Steve, he said your group would keep the noise down.” Sam nodded, still looking at Peter. “So, who’s this? You never mentioned a little brother at the VA, just Becca.” James sighed, waving his hand. “It’s not.. He’s not- It doesn’t matter. The kid is under my care, shit’s complicated. Let’s not get into it right now, where is Steve?” His question was answered as the blond man appeared behind Sam, already looking apologetic. “It’s alright, Sam. Can you head back to the table? Bruce is daring Clint to eat his d20 and Natasha isn’t stopping him.” James watched Sam roll his eyes, apparently this was a common enough occurence for it to annoy the man. He looked back at James, a serious expression on his face “Come to the VA tomorrow, okay? I want to talk to you about..” he seemed to assess Peter, unsure of what to make of him. “This.” He went back into the hallway then, leaving James to awkwardly smile at Steve as he could hear Sam’s voice, muffled, but instructing someone to “-don’t swallow that, Barton!” “..Sorry.” Steve was looking at him too, the apologetic expression hadn’t left his face. “I told you we’d keep it down, and we’re still disturbing you and your.. Son?” There was a question mark at the end of that, Steve was clearly doing math in his head, guesstimating James’ age and wondering if it matched up with Peter’s imagined age. James knew he looked older, whereas Peter was quite clearly in his mid-teens. “He’s not my son, he’s my.. I take care of him.” He didn’t want to stumble towards an explanation for the second time since he’d arrived here, so Steve would just have to settle for that. “What campaign are you playing right now?” Peter asked meekly, from behind him, and James sighed. “Storm King’s Thunder, actually.” Steve replied, James blinking at the two of them as Peter came to stand next to Steve and started firing off into a monologue about a Dungeons and Dragons club at Midtown, where he’d been the Dungeon Master for a small group of his friends, which had been forced to disband once he ended up in the foster system and moved schools. 

James felt like an astronaut, experiencing an alien language for the first time. He spaced out on the spot, his brain going about 80 miles an hour as he thought about how Peter took direction terribly and how Steve looked really good in the navy button-up he was wearing. It had been a long time since he even thought of anyone as attractive, it was simply easy to forget about that part of his body and mind, since he had enough to deal with once he got home. He tuned back in as he realized Steve was talking to him, looking up and smiling a little as Steve realized he needed to repeat himself. “I was asking if you and Peter would like to come in?” the man asked, and James looked back at Peter, who was nodding excitedly. “Can we, James? I want to see his mini’s.” He frowned at the boy, shaking his head. “No, no.. Our food is getting cold.” He decided, even as Peter’s face fell. “Aww, come on.. You have a microwave.” Steve looked between the two of them, smiling at Peter. “It’s alright, you two can come over some other time. I’ll be happy to nerd out.” James nodded, steering Peter back to their front door. “Sure, thanks, we’ll do that.” He sighed as he closed the door behind them again, frowning at Peter. “You know, when I asked you to ‘hang on’, I didn’t mean for you to follow me out and then ramble about the nerd hobby you share with our neighbor. What happened to keeping a low profile?” Peter had a guilty look on his face, sitting back down on the couch. “I’m sorry, I just got excited. Besides, it’s not like he’s going to call the cops. You take care of me, that’s true.” James sighed, sitting down next to the boy. “It’s not.. Just that. Sam is my therapist at the VA. He could decide to tell authorities about you, if he thinks I’m not convincing enough tomorrow.” Peter looked worried, picking at the food on his plate. “You really think he’s going to do that?” 

James shrugged. “I have no idea, Pete.” 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had planned to make this chapter a bit longer, but then I wanted Sam and James to have an actual conversation at the VA, so that's going to be chapter 5!


End file.
